9.Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Bonnie

Hank knocks on my trailer door right on time, which is unfortunate because I am in no way ready. I open the door just enough to poke my head out—I’m only halfway dressed and wrapped in a robe—and give him a smile. “Do you mind waiting, like, two minutes?”

“Better make it ten,” Derek says in my earbud.

Hank nods, his hands in his pockets as he stands there looking adorable in his sweater and chino pants. “Take all the time you need. I’m in no hurry.”

I’m pretty sure he means that.

As soon as I close the door, I shush Derek even though no one else can hear him. “You know how much I have a hard time choosing what to wear, and filming went long today,” I complain. “What about this?” I hold up a seagreen, ruffled sundress with off-the-shoulder sleeves.

Derek squints through the phone, which I’ve propped up on one of my shelves. “Isn’t it like forty degrees there?”

“Good point.” Though it’s vastly different from home, I kind of love the weather here, and the crispness in the air is making it easy to feel like I’m truly living in Gabrielle Frost’s world. The only thing that would make it better would be fall instead of spring, but I won’t be picky.

Tossing the dress on my bed, I grab a cream-colored cashmere sweater and some high-waisted jeans.

“Better,” Derek agrees. Then he amends his response by saying, “It’s perfect,” probably knowing I would take better to mean I should keep trying. He knows me too well. “Why didn’t you ask for Freya’s help, by the way?”

“Because it’s like four in the morning in Candora.” I pause, counting the hours to make sure I’m right. I think I am. Unless it’s five? Regardless, it’s way too early to call her.

“Kasey?”

I laugh. “I love Kasey, but she has gotten far too used to wearing Liam’s clothes.”

“Got it,” Derek says, though a wrinkle has formed on his brow as he looks at me. “And you’re sure this is a good idea, dating the author?”

I quickly get dressed off screen, talking as I go. “I’m not really dating him, and my popularity has already gone up since the latest round of pictures surfaced. People love Hank.”

Derek grumbles something I don’t understand, and then he says, “I’m sure they do. It’s not him I’m worried about.”

Over the years, Derek and I have talked a lot about our future goals. His have never changed, though neither of us have figured out a good way for him to settle down and start a family while still doing what he loves. Constantly filming on location, as he tends to do, doesn’t lend itself to putting down roots. My goals are less certain than his. For a while, I just wanted to be in as many movies as I could. A star on Hollywood Boulevard would be nice, maybe a couple of Oscars. But I’ve never had a real dream. Something I could fight for.

At the same time, it feels like I’m always fighting for my place, and I’m getting tired. Even here, as I rework the script after hours, Beckett pushes back on any changes that aren’t directly related to Gabrielle’s character, like he can’t accept that I might have good ideas for the other characters as well. I’ve had to recruit Jonah to back me up, and while I’m grateful he’s willing, I hate that I need him in the first place.

If I have any goals in life, they’re simple. I just want someone to listen to me. To not want to change me. To choose me. Even if I know it’ll never happen.

Fluffing my hair and checking my phone to make sure my set makeup still looks decent, I consider my words carefully before I talk again. “I know you think I’m lonely, Derek, but I’m fine. I promise.”

“I know you’re fine. But you should want more than that. You can’t keep hiding behind fake relationships forever, Bon.”

“What’s that? You’re breaking up. I’m losing you, Derek.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll leave it alone. But please don’t get heartbroken over this guy when it ends. I hate seeing you unhappy, and this one feels…different. I’m worried about you, Bonnie.”

I know I told Hank that I wouldn’t get attached, but Derek’s speaking my fears out loud. Hank is so different from any of the guys I’ve dated, and I already admire him so much. It will only get worse as soon as he starts talking about his next book. What if I forget that none of it is real and I let myself hope?

Then I’ll end up hurting when Fran decides I need to move on. Or when Hank gets tired of all the pretense. He was very clear when he said our time together would never lead to something real.

I groan, grabbing my phone so I can properly glare at Derek. “Will you stop getting in my head and making me overthink this? I’ll be fine. Love your guts!”

I catch one last eyeroll before I hang up on him and stuff my phone into my purse, and then I swing the trailer door open with too much enthusiasm. The door tugs me with it and I go flying, crashing right into Hank .

“Oof!” I’m not sure whether that’s me or him grunting in pain, though he gets the worse end of the deal as I land on top of him.

“Sorry!” I scramble to free him, though I’m doing a terrible job and keep slipping right back onto his chest.

Hank grabs my arms, holding me in place as he grimaces. “You okay?”

I laugh, feeling way more awkward than I should be. I’ve been on a million dates, so I don’t know why I’m blushing right now. “I should be the one asking if you’re okay,” I say.

Hank’s eyes flit upward, and I follow his gaze to see Eli standing there, one arm stretched out like he’s about to come to my rescue. When I look back down at the man beneath me, I realize he doesn’t have his glasses, which means I have an even better view of his brown eyes than I usually do. And they’re the warmest eyes I’ve ever seen. A deep amber with a ring of molten gold around the edges.

Hank clears his throat and slowly pushes me upward until he can free himself and sit up. He finds his glasses in the grass and puts them on, and then he looks at Eli again and holds up his hands, as if trying to prove we’re both unharmed.

“We’re fine, Eli,” I tell the bodyguard. At least physically, anyway. I’m mortified, so I can’t say the same for my pride. I smile at Hank, trying to loosen the tension in the air between us. “I promise I’m not usually this clumsy.”

“It was the door’s fault,” Hank replies.

I snort a laugh and scramble to my feet. “Ready to head out?”

He shrugs. “Sure.”

Eli drives us into town, and while I’m used to being chauffeured, tonight I feel like I’m in high school and on my first date with Josh Franklin. His dad drove us around and made several comments about how I was such a “pretty young thing” and so nice to say yes to Josh, who had apparently had to work up the courage to ask me. That whole date was a disaster, and not just because Josh was too intimidated to do anything but sit rigidly at my side during the movie. I wasn’t even famous then.

While Eli isn’t going to make inappropriate comments about my appearance—I asked him his opinion once, and he said I wasn’t his type—Hank is all sorts of stiff and stoic in the seat next to me.

He hasn’t smiled once since showing up at my trailer, and I’m trying not to read into it. Maybe he’s rethinking his decision to agree to this? He signed the contract that Fran sent him, which means technically he can’t back out and has to keep this up for the next few weeks at minimum, but I’m sure I could find a loophole. If not me, Liam has a killer lawyer who could help Hank.

Grabbing the door to the teeming ice cream parlor, Hank stands there for a second and takes a few deep breaths. He’s gearing himself up for this, though I don’t think his internal pep talk is working. Not based on the terrified expression he’s failing to hide.

I should probably help the guy out. He is new to the fake relationship scene, after all.

As soon as he pushes the door open, knocking the bell overhead and signaling our arrival, I tuck my arm through his and lean in close as I pull us inside. “I didn’t realize going out with me was such a chore,” I whisper to him.

Hank immediately turns a bright red. “No, it’s not… I’m not worried about being out with you. I’m worried about them .” He throws a subtle nod to the room at large as we get in line, though he didn’t need to gesture. The whole place went silent as soon as he spoke, as if everyone had simultaneously realized who just walked in.

I don’t usually go out to public restaurants like this, especially without an entire security team behind me. Most often, it’s a private club or Eli has cleared the place before I ever arrive. Even so, I’m used to getting stares if I’m in a place where people can see me. But this feels different .

This feels like an entire town has collectively come for the sole purpose of getting a glimpse of me.

Hank’s arm is rigid, just like his clenched jaw, and he is doing his best to keep his eyes locked on the menu. A drop of sweat beads on his temple, further illustrating his discomfort.

This was a bad idea.

“We can go back to the car and let Eli get our ice cream for us,” I suggest, though I feel like everyone can hear me now that all the conversation has stopped.

Hank tugs his arm free of mine, and my heart sinks, but then he grabs hold of my hand, all without shifting his gaze. Impressive, considering the gasp that runs through our audience. I guess everyone knows who Hank is. If they didn’t before, they certainly do now that he’s dating me.

“They’ll talk either way,” he says, louder than I expected. A few people even flinch from his assessment and turn their attention to their ice cream. “Besides, I want to show you Laketown.”

I smile. “I would love to see Laketown with you.” And I mean that. Fake relationship or not, Hank intrigues me, and I’m pretty positive that he based the small town in Frosted Peaks on Laketown. Coming here was like stepping into the book, and I’ve only seen a few parts of it so far.

The small family in line in front of us places their order with many backward glances from the parents, and then it’s our turn.

I make a show of checking out all the flavors, even though I’ll probably go for whatever has the least amount of sugar so my nutritionist doesn’t get angry with me. “They all sound so good!”

Hank relaxes as he leans closer to me. “My personal favorite was always the mint chip,” he murmurs.

“Was?”

“It’s, uh, been a while.”

There are so many mysteries I want to solve right now when it comes to Hank and his antisocial tendencies. He’s not an awkward guy by any means, and he handles conversations with finesse, for the most part. Everyone in this town seems to think it’s some miracle that he’s here, and I’m starting to think they’re not shocked because I’m his date. At least not entirely. This is mostly about Hank.

But it’s not like I can flat out ask him why he’s a shut-in, now can I?

“I’ll take a single scoop of the mint,” I tell the teenager behind the counter.

It seems to take him a second to remember that he’s at work, and then he does his best to get my scoop without looking away from me.

Hank clears his throat. “And a scoop of cherry chocolate,” he tells the kid, giving him a scowl.

I laugh. “Already feeling possessive?”

Hank doesn’t say anything, but the red that rises up his face is enough of an answer.

I nudge his shoulder. “You’re pretty cute when you’re jealous, Hank McAllister.”

Until now, I’d never met anyone who blushed as much as me. It’s nice to know I’m not alone in my inability to hide my embarrassment.

By the time we get a seat in the corner, courtesy of Eli intimidating a couple of teens into finishing their ice cream quickly and heading out into the growing darkness, Hank finally seems more at peace with the situation. Though he keeps glancing around as he eats his ice cream, he’s way more relaxed than he’s been all night. I plan to keep him that way.

“Okay,” I say, pointing my spoon at him. “I only have so much time before I have to be in bed, according to my assistant, so if you were serious about brainstorming your book, I suggest we get to it.”

Hank’s eyebrows rise for a moment, as if he’d forgotten that part. “Right. You sure you want to help?”

“Hank, there is nothing I love more than a good story. Especially a Gabrielle Frost story. Please let me help you. ”

His little smile makes the begging worth it. “Well, if you’re serious, you should know that I’m completely stuck.”

I’ve never been much of a creator, so I can only imagine how awful that must feel. The closest I’ve probably come to writer’s block is having to take a poorly written character and figure out how to act as her in a way that audiences would enjoy. But that’s probably nothing like this.

Liam was blocked last fall, and it was Kasey who helped him out of it. Maybe what Hank needs is someone cheering him on.

“How far into the book have you gotten?” I ask, placing some ice cream on my tongue. Hank was right about this being delicious, though I wonder why he got the cherry chocolate instead when he said this was his favorite. He doesn’t seem all that interested in his cup.

Hank grimaces. “Gabrielle has already solved the murder, and she just has to catch the guy. But I’m only halfway through the book, and I’m not sure what direction things need to go.”

“Maybe she solved it too fast,” I suggest, smoothing the surface of my ice cream with my spoon. “I mean, crime shows always wait until the last minute to solve the murders because that’s how they keep their audience interested.”

Frowning, Hank takes a small bite and doesn’t say anything until long after he swallows. “Everyone always focuses on solving the crime. Those shows never talk about who is left behind.”

There’s something about that comment that catches my attention, though I’m not sure what or why. Whatever it is, Hank feels dimmer than he did a moment ago, and I don’t like it. Derek gets that way sometimes, when he thinks too hard about the life he might have lived if he didn’t get cast as the hero in an indie action film that went viral. He gets stuck on the things he may have missed and forgets that he’s doing something he loves.

I don’t want that for Hank.

“So you want to tell the story that happens after the dust settles?”

Blinking, Hank looks up and shakes his head. “No. That doesn’t make for a compelling story. And it would take the focus off of Gabrielle, which goes against the whole point. The story can’t go on without her, and she needs me to keep her alive.”

I’m sixty percent certain one of the fluorescent light bulbs has burned out above us because there’s an even darker shadow hanging over Hank now. Whatever reason this story is stuck, it is really bugging him.

Digging into my ice cream, I quickly search for a way to get his creative juices flowing. It takes me longer than I’d like to admit. “Is Gabrielle finally going to get with Captain Stacey in this book?”

Hank blinks, his mouth open as he stares at me. “Stacey?”

“Well yeah. You’ve been teasing those two for four books now, and I’m dying for them to realize they’re madly in love with each other!”

“They’re not…” He stops, closing his mouth as his eyes narrow. “They’re not in love with each other.”

I burst into laughter at the indignation in his tone, which is probably not a great thing because it pulls everyone’s attention back to us, but I can’t help myself. “You’re kidding, right?”

His frown deepens. “No.”

Oh my goodness, he actually means that. My jaw falls open. “Hank. Stacey is desperately in love with Gabrielle, and everyone knows it.”

“I’m sorry, but who wrote the book? Because I’m pretty sure it was me. And he’s not in love with anyone. That’s the whole backbone of his character.”

Where in the world is this sass coming from? I kind of love it. “When was the last time you actually read one of your books, Hank?” I retort. “Because you can ask any one of your fans, and they’ll agree with me.”

Scoffing, he shakes his head at me but seems to be fighting a smile now. “You’re telling me there’s a slew of delusional people out there who think Stacey and Gabrielle should be a couple? You’re all insane. ”

“There is fan art of the two of them! Fanfiction galore. People even dress up as Stacey and Gabrielle at cons and things because they’re just so perfect together.”

“Stacey is a hardened cop who is incapable of feeling affection.”

“Stacey is guarded. There’s a difference.”

“He’s a side character.”

“He’s endgame!”

Hank snorts a laugh at the same time a broad smile breaks free, and something shifts in the room. No, something shifts in him . Even when I’ve seen him smile before, it hasn’t looked like this. He’s always been weighed down and subdued, but this grin seems to bring him to life.

Reaching across the table, I grab hold of his hand and hold his gaze as I lay out my final argument. “Hank, Gabrielle can’t be alone forever. Logan was a baddie and that movie critic didn’t appreciate her like he should, and sooner or later she has to realize that Captain Stacey has been by her side since the beginning. Not to mention he needs her as much as she needs him after losing his sister in the last book. The poor man is grieving, and he’s all alone. No one should have to live like that.”

However I expected Hank to respond, it wasn’t his smile disappearing. It wasn’t with tears. They’re barely there, just a glimmer of moisture behind his glasses, and I’m not even sure he notices. I notice. How could I not? I just made a man tear up, and I have no idea why.

Hank lifts his lips in a tiny smile and then picks up my empty ice cream cup. “I should get you home. Er, back to your trailer. Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for being out too late.”

It’s not even nine o’clock. I’m not sure what I said wrong, but I’ve clearly offended the man.

I slap on a smile to make sure no one thinks I’m not having a great time with my new boyfriend, and I watch as Hank deftly ignores everyone who watches him cross the parlor to the garbage can and throws our trash away. Hank only ate half his ice cream, and I’m sure at least one person took notice of that. It’ll be interesting to see what direction Fran has for us tomorrow after this first excursion in public.

For my part, it didn’t go nearly as well as I would have hoped. For one small moment, Hank seemed like a different person. Like he had woken up for the first time in years. Whatever I said, it flipped a switch, and he was back to being quiet and muted. Hank is great no matter how animated—or not animated—he is, but I feel like I got a glimpse of someone…more.

There is more to Hank than the man I know, and I have a feeling he’s been hiding for a long time.

Everyone has their comfortable levels of vulnerability, but Hank looked happier when he opened up a moment ago. There was no trace of the anxiety and tension he always seems to have, and I’m almost desperate to pry him open again and let that other Hank free.

With how wary his expression is as he returns to our booth, he seems to realize the same thing. And he’s terrified. Still, he holds out his hand to me and smiles when I slip my fingers into his. “Ready?” he asks gently.

“You’re still coming to set tomorrow, right?” We never established that, but I’m desperate to ensure this relationship doesn’t die before it starts. If not for my sake, for Hank’s.

Though Hank blinks in surprise, he recovers quickly and nods. “Of course I am.” Then he surprises me—and everyone else in the packed parlor, for some reason—with a kiss on the cheek that leaves my heart beating faster.